The Daily Prophet
by PhoenixFireHope
Summary: A daily prophet article exposes Harry's abuse at the hands of his relatives. What will the reaction of his friends and family be? Please review!
1. Daily Prophet

**A/N Please review! **

**Disclaimer- It's JK Rowling's, not mine. **

It had been a long day at work, and Harry was running late to the Burrow for a family get together. "Bloody paperwork," he muttered to himself as he reached the assigned fire and threw a handful of floo powder in, shouting 'the Burrow!'

Throwing his hands out to steady himself, Harry Potter clambered out of the fire and began to make his way into the kitchen- normally the hub of the Weasley household. However, suddenly he noticed that something was different.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were each sat around the living room, staring at him rather unnervingly.

"Um.. hi?" he said tentatively, feeling slightly confused, "Sorry I'm late- paperwork a mile high, and-"

He was about to continue, but Mrs Weasley interrupted.

"Have you seen the Daily Prophet today, Harry dear?"

"No, I-" Harry groaned. That must have been why Harris was so keen to keep hold of the paper, and why everyone was shooting furtive looks at him all day. In the end, he had snapped at young Ronolfson for putting him off his work, practically reducing him to dust. Flopping into a chair, Harry glanced around at them.

"What is it this time?" he asked tiredly. "I'm used to it by now, I don't care about what rubbish Rita Skeeter has come up with about a love triangle or feud in the Potter household."

"This isn't what the article is about, Harry" said Ginny quietly.

"Look, I've told you everything about the war. It can't be something new." 

"It's not about that either, mate." Said Ron, as Harry glanced over at him in confusion. Hermione was gazing at him with an expression bordering on horror. When she saw Harry looking at her, she sighed impatiently.

"Just read it, Harry,"

Still in confusion, Harry picked up the Daily Prophet and was about to flick through to find the article, before noticing the front page was emblazoned with a picture of him looking worn out- probably on the way home from work in the past week or so.

"Hmmm- font page worthy" he said dryly. "It must be good. Let's see."

He began to read the article aloud: 'Harry Potter: The Tragic Childhood."

He snorted.

"Hardly breaking news."

Nobody else laughed.

Then, he began to scan the article. '_As we all know, Harry Potter's childhood was tragically blighted by the death of his parents, leaving him an orphan. However, as the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, his childhood was also blighted by abusive guardians."_

Harry felt as though water had filled his ears. All these years spent moving beyond this, and carving out a new happy family, and something like this had to remind him. He scanned the rest of the page. 'Violent Uncle', 'Starved', 'Locked away in cupboards for weeks on end, perhaps to blame for his unhealthy appearance', 'Punished for accidental magic', 'Neglected', 'Saviour of the wizarding world treated like a criminal by his relatives', 'Fulfilling the duties of a house elf.'- Hermione would have liked that one, he thought wryly.

Once Harry reached the end of the article, he took a few deep breaths, and risked a look at the occupants of the living room. They were all watching him cautiously, as if he was about to blow up at any moment.

"How did she-" he burst out, angrily, before stopping himself. The damage had been done.

"So it's true?" asked Ginny.

Harry tried to avoid her gaze, but instead found himself pulled towards her eyes.

"I thought you knew," he murmured, shaking his head as if to shake water from it.

"How could I _know_ if you didn't _tell _me?" shouted Ginny. Harry took an involuntary step backwards, then mentally shook himself. The article had brought back all these stress reactions which he had buried. He hoped that it had gone unnoticed.

He noticed Ron and Hermione glance at each other worriedly. Them Harry glanced back at Ginny. Her gaze had softened somewhat, but she was still visibly angry. The air around her seemed to crackle under the influence of her emotions, her long red hair accentuating her aura of anger.

"Look," began Harry heatedly, "It's all in the past now. The only reason I haven't gone into the specific details is because I didn't _need _reminding of it all. You all knew I hated them," he said, gesturing around the room. Hermione looked stricken.

"You must have known there was a reason for it. I mean, Ron," he said, holding his gaze, "You must have known when you rescued me in the flying Ford Anglia-"

At this, Ron looked slightly worriedly at Mrs Weasley, whose eyes flickered slightly at the mention of that particular escapade. Mr Weasley merely looked seriously at Harry.

"There was bars on my windows, for Christ's sake!" exclaimed Harry.

Ron nodded, looking guilty. "I s'pose- we did know they were awful. It's just when it's written down like that…"

His voice faded as he gestured towards the Daily Prophet article.

At this, Harry closed his eyes and sank into the nearest chair.

"If only the press would leave me alone," he muttered.

IN an unusual moment of tact, Ron seemed to detect a need to lighten the mood.

"No chance of that, is there mate. Not after you won Witch Weekly's 'Most Handsome Wizard' award the other year."

Harry glared at him, and threw a pillow across the room at him.

"Children," intoned Hermione, though her eyes betrayed humour.

"So," said Ginny, reaching for Harry's hand, "Can we go and hunt them down?"

Harry sighed. "No, Ginny. I'm over it. Anyway, they were terrified of magic. It's just a terrible combination of circumstances."

Ginny looked ready to complain, but Harry looked pleadingly around the room.

"Look, can we just- I don't want to think about it. I've got a new life now- a new family."

"What do you mean, a new family!" Ron spluttered, glaring at Harry in outrage.

The entire room burst into laughter.

"Honestly, Ronald," laughed Hermione. "Don't be ridiculous."

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other.

"Well, actually," began Ginny.

Mrs Weasley's eyes filled with tears, whilst Ron looked ready to explode.

Ginny and Harry fell about laughing.

"Honestly, mate," chuckled Harry, "I'll know to be on my guard when it's really time!"

**A/N – Bit of a random one shot that came into my head. Please review!**


	2. A Weasley kind of plan

The muggle street screamed of normality. The gardens were all perfectly manicured, yet withering in the blistering heat of a long, hot summer. Hosepipes lay uselessly, forbidden to be used under an intense drought. Cars were parked neatly in driveways, and the street was silent except for the slight whisper of a breeze which barely stirred the tired plants.

However, some people were making their way down the street who looked distinctly abnormal. Although they were dressed in jeans and t shirts, fairly normal attire for a summer's day, they seemed at odds with the street. Travellers from another land, these ginger haired wanderers made their way along the grey pavement.

"What d'you reckon," one whispered to another.

"I don't know," replied the other, tall, freckled individual, "Is this the right number, Ginny?"

"Yes, Ron" she muttered, hand clenching around something in her pocket, "We may as well call in and say hello, what d'you reckon?"

"Okay," replied both at once.

"Right. So George?"

The first one looked up.

"Go."

He crept towards the house in front of them. Unlike the other lawns, this had the obvious signs of being regularly watered, and a gleaming car sat in the driveway. A purple sticker supporting the Independent Britain Party clung to the back window, as if to assert the owner's narrow mindedness wherever he went. As George passed the car, he snuck under the front window to hover by the letterbox.

"Right, so us round the back, Gin?" asked Ron nervously.

"Yup."

Both snuck past George, who winked at them as they passed, drawing something out of his pocket and muttering numbers under his breath.

"90… 89…88…87…86.." he whispered, as Ron and Ginny clicked open the back gate.

The sound of the television blazed through the open kitchen window.

"Honestly, they call themselves politicians," ranted the man inside.

"I know. And the others aren't much better. At least his wife wears such lovely shoes."

Ginny and Ron gazed at each other incredulously.

"Shallow," commented Ginny quietly.

"Hmmm," replied Ron, looking distracted. "Are you sure George is counting?"

"Yes, I heard him," replied Ginny.

"Right, "muttered Ron. "Best get going with it then."

**A/N Sorry this is short- I decided to end on a cliffhanger because I'm mean like that **** One more chapter to go.**


	3. Retribution

**A/N Sorry this is so late everyone! I know it's been ages since I updated, but it's finally finished. **

As Ginny, Ron and George readied their wands, Petunia and Vernon sat stiffly in front of the television, blissfully unaware of the plan which was rolling into action around them. Had they glanced out of the window, they may have noticed a strange haziness, blurring their view of Privet Drive. However, as it was, they were unable to feel the magic that was working its way into the very bones of the house, twisting and feeding its way into the structure. Slowly, it moulded a path, dancing into a world that repelled magic's very existence.

"12… 11… 10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…" murmured George, pulling his wand back and whispering, "Falsum promuntiarium."

A red point of light burst from his wand, curving through the air to meet the gold and white beams. He sighed with relief. They had timed it to perfection, and the tell tale blurring behind him showed that Ginny's disillusionment charms had held. So, as the three points connected, George reached into his pocket and threw Peruvian Instant Darkness powder through the window.

Ron and Ginny looked up as George came around the corner, grinning.

"Did it work?" asked Ron urgently, running a hand through his hair.

"Of course, dear brother. Any minute now, and we should have them."

"Good," replied Ginny uneasily. "I want to get out of here."

The whole place repulsed her. It was too… neat, somehow. Everything was ordered, leaving no room for argument. She was surprised that any magic could survive here, and another wave of pity overwhelmed her. No wonder Harry loved the Burrow so much.

"How long until the spell reverses?" asked George, glancing up at Ginny.

"Oh, just enough time to teach them a lesson," She grinned, an evil glint in her eye. George and Ron exchanged looks.

"Remind me never to get on your bad side," muttered Ron under his breath.

"Vernon? Vernon?" wailed Petunia, "What's happening."

"Must be a power cut," he muttered. She heard an ominous smashing noise.

"Was that my mother's vase?" asked Petunia, horrified.

"Sorry dear," grunted Vernon, "I can't find that bloody torch…"

She sighed in irritation "We moved it last week, when the Thompson's came for supper. You'll have to go upstairs and find it."

"Fine," he grumbled, attempting to stand up. "Argh!"

He sank down again, clutching his head.

"What's wrong now?"

"I hit my head on this damned ceiling!"

"You can't have done. It must have been… Vernon."

Petunia's voice rose shrilly. "Vernon, it's daytime. It can't be this dark."

His heavy breathing increased for a moment.

"You don't think…" His voice faltered.

Petunia gasped. "No. No, they wouldn't. That Diggle man said that we wouldn't have anything to do with- that lot."

"It could be a solar thingy- you know, what we saw with Marge that time, in Cornwall."

There was obvious hope in Vernon's voice.

"Yes," said Petunia, with relief. "We must have missed hearing about it."

Then, the darkness faded, and Petunia felt herself drop to the ground.

"We're- we can't be- gar," garbled Vernon "It's a cupboard, Petunia! We're in a cupboard!"

He tried the door, but it refused to move. It looked oddly familiar.

"It must be them," she gasped, wide eyed. "They've done this- what- what's this, Vernon?"

A letter had appeared, seemingly of its own accord, onto her lap.

Mr and Mrs Dursley,

We thought that you could do with a taste of your own medicine. We know what you did, and I promise that this will be the last that you hear from us. This won't last long- just an hour- but it should give you a chance to realise that you were wrong, all those years ago. Nobody deserves to be treated so cruelly, especially a child in your care. Harry doesn't know about this, but we care about him. So, here's our gift to him- and perhaps to you, if you learn from it.

PS- Here are some biscuits.

As they reached the end of the letter, mysteriously devoid of a signature, a plate of custard creams appeared on the sparse area of floor between them. Staring at each other in horror, they recoiled from the plate, and accustomed themselves to what would be a very long hour.

Meanwhile, 3 redheads grinned, then twisted into nothingness.

**A/N I hope you enjoyed it! I did struggle with this final chapter, but I felt terrible for taking so long to finish up. I've been busy- a new school year, university applications, etc. As such, I may be off the radar for a while. Please review, and give your thoughts. **


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